Love Poem: Camellia - Part 2 Translation From Tagore

Camellia - Part 2 Translation From Tagore

SECOND part of the translation from Rabindranath Tagore's Poem "CAMELLIA'"


I was on my travel carrying the plant in a pot.
Found out, the co-passenger was not an easy co-traveller,
In a two-compartment vehicle,
I hid the plant in the bathroom.
Let’s not talk about the details of the travel,
Let’s skip the trivialities of a few more months.

In the vacation celebrating Puja, the curtain opened in Santhal Parganas.
It’s a small place. I don’t want to mention the name.
The fanatic group of changing weather, was not familiar with this spot.
Kamala’s uncle worked as an engineer with the railways,
He built a house here,
in the shadows of Shaal-woods, in the locality of squirrels.
The blue mountains can be seen in the horizon,
A stream in the far is running through the sand,
The buds of Tasar appearing in the forest of Palash,
The buffaloes are grazing under the shade of Hartuki trees,
with naked Santhal boys on their back.

I had no other company,I had that Camelia.
Kamala was there with her mother.
Before the sun rises, in the dew-touched pleasant breeze,
she went for a walk holding an umbrella, in the saal-forest,
the wild flowers in the field touched her feet, but did she notice?
walked on her feet past the river with shallow water, crossed to the other side,
read books there under the Shishu tree,

And, I knew she recognized me,because she made sure not to show she noticed.
One day found that they were having a picnic on the sand beside the river,
Felt like joining and asking them -
Could I be of help for something?
I could carry water from the river,  I could chop and bring woods from the forest,
And, wasn’t there close by in the forest, any kind of a gentle bear?

Found that there was a young man in the group,
wearing shorts, and a silky foreign-made shirt, smoking a cigar, 
sitting besides Kamala stretching his legs.
And, absent-minded Kamala was ripping petals of a white Hibiscus.
An English magazine lying beside them.
I realized that moment – in this solitary corner of Santhal Parganas, I was unbearably redundant,
I would have left immediately, but there was one job to finish.
In a few days, Camellia was going to bloom, I would be done after sending it.

The whole day I roamed around in the forest carrying a gun, looking for a hunt,
before evening set, 
I came back and watered the plant, and checked how much the bud has progressed.
I was ready at last.The Santhal girl who brought the woods for my cooking, I called her.

I would send the flower by her in a pot made of leaves. I was reading a detective novel inside the tent, 
heard a melodious voice from outside –“Why did you call me, sir?”
Came out, saw Camellia on the ears of the Santhal girl,
beautifully placed and lightening her dark cheek. 
She asked again ” why did you call me sir?”
I said, ” because of this”.
Then I returned to Kolkata.


                         Translated By: Malabika Ray Choudhury